


Always A Queen

by coralysendria



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-24
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:16:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coralysendria/pseuds/coralysendria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan was left behind by the others and lived in this world.  But she never forgot that she had been a queen, nor did she forget the lessons she learned as a queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always A Queen

Susan Pevensie Greene always used the side entrance at the library. She could not bear to pass between the majestic stone lions guarding the front steps. She couldn't bear lions in general; even after so very long they reminded her too much of what she had lost. Her daughters and grandchildren assumed that lions frightened her and she let them. It was easier to be thought a silly old woman than to explain. She had never wanted her children or grandchildren to go looking for doorways into beautiful, dangerous, magical lands.

For the last several years, she had mentored a women's group once a week at the library. Her students were mostly survivors of bad situations and she taught lessons on subjects as diverse as mathematics, reading, carriage, decorum, and how to dress for a job interview. She was especially good at teaching decorum. Even at her age, her posture remained perfect. No slumped shoulders, no need for a walking stick -- though she carried one just in case. The lessons learned in her youth and first adulthood had stayed with her even after she had been denied her own magical land.

_Once a king or queen in Narnia,_ she had been told in her youth, _always a king or queen._ She had never forgotten it, and in the years that followed, had always borne herself as a queen. Her brothers and sister thought she had gone mad for the latest mode, but she was only doing what they had always done -- dressed as well as their means allowed. During the war of her childhood, that had meant a very different thing from what it meant when she was a queen, and there was more to it than the clothing, of course. Her siblings and their friends had never understood that, nor even asked her about it. They simply dismissed her as silly and empty-headed for caring about her appearance, and shut her out of their fellowship.

She was told later by well-meaning people that it was a blessing in disguise. She had not been invited on the trip that had ended before it began in a train crash. She wasn't sure which was harder to bear: the thought that her family had all been horribly killed, or the hope that they had all -- even her parents -- been snatched away at the last instant. She knew only that whatever had happened, they had left her behind.

She had had to make her own way in the world after that. By the time she had paid for five funerals, there had been no money left -- life insurance and pre-paid burials were not so common then as they were now. She had received a little help from Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta, but they had been dealing with their own loss at the time, as their son Eustace had also been on the train.

She had made a hasty marriage in order to unburden her aunt and uncle of herself -- the wrong decision, as it turned out. Jim had been a dashing American soldier, stationed in England after the war. He had reminded her a bit of Peter as High King, and she had thought that would be enough for them both. He'd been killed in Korea. Even as she comforted her children, Susan had been ashamed to admit to her relief. He had never laid a hand on her, but there were other ways of hurting people. At those, he had been adept.

She was somewhat surprised at herself not to have left America after that, but by then it had become home and she had her daughters, and later her grandchildren, to think of. The only job she could find at first was as a secretary at the Red Cross office, but that had evolved into a position as an advocate for battered women. At one point, she had managed a women's shelter. The women became her daughters, their children her grandchildren. Her own daughters hadn't understood her need for family, but eventually, they'd accepted the odd extra person at family dinners.

Susan paused at the top of the ramp and put her hand to her chest. There was an odd pulling behind her breastbone, but as she massaged the spot, the sensation faded and she decided that perhaps the cream cheese she'd spread on her morning bagel was beginning to go off. She'd throw it away when she got home.

She pushed the door open and entered the library, breathing deeply of the smell of paper and books. The smell of knowledge, one she normally associated with Edmund, who had become a great scholar. When not serving as High King Peter's ambassador, he could generally be found in Caer Paravel's library, surrounded by a pile of books, making notes on a piece of parchment. He'd look up when she entered and smile. _"Hullo, Su,"_ he'd say. _"Any new conquests?"_ It became a private joke between them after their return from Calormen.

She smiled at the younger women minding the check-out desk and made her way to the room where her meetings were held. None of her girls were there yet, but the library staff had kindly opened the doors and turned on the lights. She moved to the back and plugged in the electric coffee maker. Her chest twinged again as she bent over to reach the outlet and she wondered if she were going to be ill. She certainly hoped not; neither dignity nor her girls would be served by succumbing to food poisoning in front of them. While the water heated, she waited for her students to arrive, occasionally massaging her chest.

First through the door was Ruth, a darkly beautiful woman who reminded Susan quite strongly of the Calormene princess Aravis. "Good morning, Mrs. Greene," Ruth said, taking a seat. 

"Good morning, dear," Susan responded. Unlike some of her students, Ruth did not come from a bad situation. Like Aravis, she had left her native land and settled among strangers; she was here to learn to better blend in with her neighbors.

Lettie was next in the door. Young and ambitious, Lettie's country manners had not enabled her to find the types of jobs she desired. She was a quick study, though, and Susan judged it only a matter of time before she dropped her nickname and became "Letitia." At that point, Lettie would have to make a choice between retaining her sweet nature or becoming the cutthroat schemer that her chosen path in life required. Susan hoped that when the time came, Letitia would make the right choice, but though she knew what "right" meant to her, she did not know what it might mean to Lettie.

The next few students came in a chattering knot. These three, Phyllis, Gert, and Mary, were women whose husbands had left them. Gert, at least, had not been burdened with children, but Phyllis had three and Mary had two. All three hoped that Susan's lessons would help them improve their situation. Meanwhile, Susan helped them out with quiet donations and surreptitious gifts.

Last through the door, several minutes after the others, but still a couple of minutes early, was Emma. Susan had not been able to discover much about Emma, other than the woman was perpetually frightened. She suspected an abusive man, but until Emma chose to talk about it, she had no way of knowing for certain. "Good morning, Mrs. Greene," Emma whispered as she slid into a seat.

Susan smiled kindly. "Good morning, dear. Good morning to all of you. Shall we begin?"

Today's lessons were in deportment, and for the next two hours, Susan drilled them in posture, speech, and manners. Under her tutelage, they were all coming along nicely, turning from girls (or dames or dolls or broads or whatever the current slang was) to ladies. She certainly hoped that their efforts would help them reach their goals.

"All right, ladies," she said, as the clock chimed twelve. "That's it for this week. Thank you for coming."

The women thanked her and chorused their goodbyes. From the corner of her eye, Susan saw Emma hesitate. "Mrs. Greene..."

"Yes, dear?"

Emma looked down, her shoulders slumped. "I don't think I'll be coming any more, Mrs. Greene."

Susan sighed to herself. This would be it, then. "Why not, dear? Aren't the lessons helping?"

"Oh, the lessons are wonderful," Emma said, her face briefly alight before crumpling again. "It's just...Jimmy..."

"Your husband?"

Emma nodded. She sat back down in her chair. Susan joined her, but Emma seemed unwilling, now, to speak.

"My husband's name was James," Susan said conversationally. "He was an American soldier stationed in Britain after the war. Oh, how dashing I thought he was." She smiled wryly. "He wasn't a bad man, I suppose, but I married him for the wrong reasons and we were never truly happy." But at least he wasn't Rabadash of Calormen, she added to herself.

"Jimmy was like that, at first," Emma said. "Dashing, I mean. I never saw anyone like him before. There were times when I couldn't breathe when he was around -- he was just so glittering. Have you ever felt like that Mrs. Greene?"

Not about a man, Susan thought, remembering the touch of heavy velveted paws on her shoulders, but to Emma, she only smiled and nodded. "Yes, dear."

It seemed that was enough to loosen the floodgates. The tale Emma told her was a familiar one: He'd seemed so wonderful, but once they were married, he'd changed. He'd expected superhuman efforts of cooking and cleaning and he'd expected children. Time and time again, Emma had found herself not pregnant. He'd started hitting her. And then, miraculously, she had conceived.

"I thought everything would be all right after that. I thought he'd change back to the man I fell in love with." Tears ran down her face; Susan was absurdly pleased when Emma pulled a clean white handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

"What happened?"

Emma looked down, studying the damp handkerchief. "He got drunk one night, a couple of months before the baby was due. He was a mean drunk, Mrs. Greene. He came home and beat me so hard that I went into labor. A beautiful little girl, Mrs. Greene. Beautiful. But she was born too soon and she only lived a day."

Susan reached over and took Emma's hand. "I'm so sorry, dear."

"Oh, that's not the worst of it." It seemed that having started her tale, Emma felt compelled to finish it. "He was my husband, and he told the doctor that I'd fallen downstairs. So they let him come into the hospital. And he told me that it was a good thing that the baby had died, because he didn't want any stinking girls and now we could try again for a boy."

"So you left."

Emma nodded. "As soon as the doctor said I could. I didn't even wait for a taxi, but started walking. I drew some money out of the bank and came to the city. I thought he wouldn't be able to find me here and I could start over."

That explained the haunted, frightened look. Emma was constantly looking over her shoulder. "The city is certainly a good place to lose yourself."

"Except he's here," Emma said dully. "I saw him the other day, right on my street."

"Did he see you?" Susan asked quickly. Her chest twinged again, but she ignored it, running the possibilities through her mind. She could call the police, but who could say whether they would choose to open a case for Emma; they were often reluctant to get involved in domestic matters, especially if the officers were older and male.

"I don't think so, but he must know I'm here. It's not a coincidence, Mrs. Greene, it can't be."

Susan made a quick decision. "Where are you staying, dear?" Emma named an establishment that Susan recognized as an extended-stay hotel in a bad neighborhood; it was little better than a flophouse, and if Jimmy really was in the city, Emma would not be safe there. Susan's lips thinned. Emma was probably not safe there, in any case, though she forebore to mention that to the frightened young woman. Instead, she drew Emma to her feet. "Come on, dear. You certainly can't go back there if your husband knows you're there. You'll come to my house today, and I'll send some strapping lads of my acquaintance over to collect your belongings."

"Oh, no," Emma protested, "I couldn't be such a bother. I'll take care of it myself."

"Nonsense!" Susan said firmly. "It's no bother; I have plenty of room, and tomorrow we can sort out a new place for you, perhaps in a shelter, where they can give you further assistance with living arrangements and perhaps even help you find work."

Emma smiled tremulously. "That would be wonderful. Thank you, Mrs. Greene."

Susan patted the girl's hand. "Everything will be all right, dear. You'll see. Now, come on. I'm a bit hungry; let's go find some lunch, shall we?" She picked up her bag and waited while Emma gathered her things, then led the way out of the conference room, already trying to decide whether she should use the extremely public front doors or whisk her charge out through the much more private side entrance. First, however, she stopped at the front desk, signalling one of the clerks. 

"Judith, dear," she said softly to the woman who approached. "Young Emma's husband is in town and likely to come here looking for her at some point. Will you make sure he doesn't find her?"

Judith's lips thinned. She had been in Emma's situation once, and Susan had helped her out of it. Judith, in fact, was one of the reasons they were able to conduct their classes here; she'd spoken with the library board on Susan's behalf. "Of course, Mrs. Greene."

"Thank you, dear."

On reflection, she decided that the front entrance would be safer for her charge than the less-public side entrance. Turning to back to Emma, she noted the girl's sickly expression of fear. "Would you prefer that I call those lads now?" she asked, laying a hand on Emma's arm. "Or I could try the police, but I have to say, dear, that they're not likely to be all that helpful."

Emma shook herself. "No, Mrs. Greene. I have to be brave."

"That's the spirit, dear." Susan led the way to the doors, Emma trailing a half step behind her, like a duckling following its mother. As she stepped through the door, Susan cast a wary eye on the surrounding landscape. All seemed normal. She turned to Emma and found the girl standing fearfully just outside the library's glass door. She tucked the girl's arm through her own, drawing her out into the sunshine and down the steps. They stepped together between the stone lions, Susan too concerned with the younger woman to really notice them.

They started up the street to where Susan had left her car. She only registered the man standing in the shadow of the lion's pedestal when he swung around in front of them. Susan had a lot of experience with abusive men, and this well-dressed specimen was one of the smooth ones. He would attempt to charm his way past her protections, get her to release his wife to him, so he could take her home and beat her to within an inch of her life. And he didn't really care which side of the line that inch came out on.

"There you are, Emma," he said genially. "I've been looking all over for you."

Emma stiffened. "He-hello, J-jimmy. I-I-I w-was j-just...."

Jimmy smiled at Susan, but the expression was all surface glitz; it never reached his eyes. Susan was not surprised that the expression reminded her of Jadis, the White Witch. A serpent would smile so. He held out his hand. "James Holden. How do you do, Mrs...?"

Manners and poise had carried Susan through far worse situations, so though she desperately wanted to slap the man, she returned his smile. "Greene. Mrs. Greene. And I am just fine, Mr. Holden, thank you for asking." She did not take his hand.

"I want to thank you for taking care of my wife for me, Mrs. Greene," Jimmy said, gracefully letting his hand fall as though he had intended it the whole time.. "It was very kind. But I'm here to take her home." He turned a kindly smile on Emma, but Susan knew him for what he was.

That odd pulling sensation was back in her chest as she stepped casually between Emma and Jimmy, drawing his eyes back to her. "But, Mr. Holden! Emma had just accepted an invitation to spend a few weeks with me, helping me to clean out my attics, so I can move into a smaller home."

Jimmy hesitated. Susan could almost see the rapid-fire calculations going on in his head, and hear his thoughts. He had already assessed the old lady's relative station in life and the likely size of her bank accounts. Visions of access to Susan's supposed wealth waltzed behind his eyes. He was confident that if he allowed his wife to accompany the old biddy, he could easily manipulate one or the other of them into granting him what he wanted.

Susan held her breath. Could it be so easy to get Emma away from him?

Then his eyes hardened; perhaps he remembered Emma's "betrayal." "I'm sorry, Mrs. Greene, but I can't possibly spare Emma for that long. And she's been ill, you understand, and I'd hate to endanger her further."

Susan let her breath out. Ah, well. She turned to Emma. "Well, my dear? Do you wish to go with him?"

Emma's frightened eyes answered that question, which was just as well, since Susan couldn't hear whether she actually voiced the negative on her lips.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holden," she said, turning back to the cad, "but I'm afraid that Emma will be coming home with me. She doesn't wish to accompany you."

"Don't be ridiculous. She's my wife. Of course she's coming home with me." He reached around Susan to grab Emma's arm, but found Susan still in his way. "Move aside, you interfering old busybody! This is between me and my wife."

"No, James Holden. This isn't between you and your wife. This is between you and me. Your wife is under my protection, and by your own actions, you have forfeited any claim over her." Susan drew herself up to her full, not inconsiderable height and planted her walking stick between them, consciously drawing on the image of Edmund or Peter facing down an opponent, sword in hand. She wished briefly for her bow, but that weapon was long gone, and besides, she was far too close to the man for an arrow. If only her chest would stop pulling; she could certainly handle this man, but not if she suddenly became ill. _Once a queen,_ she said to herself, _always a queen._

James Holden abandoned his polish. "Get out of my way, you old bitch!" He darted around Susan, but found himself tripped by her stick. She turned, keeping Emma behind her, the walking stick before her, hoping that Judith was watching and calling the police. Holden leapt to his feet with an inarticulate cry of rage and rushed at Susan, who lifted the walking stick, holding it before her like a sword, and backed away, until she was up against the foot of the plinth, Emma beside her.

In a sense, Susan had always known what would happen next. At the same time, it was so totally unexpected that it took her breath away and aggravated the hitch in her chest. Holden stopped in mid-step, off-balance, and toppled over backward, a look of terror on his face, as the stone lion -- stone no longer -- hopped down from the plinth and stood over the man, growling low in his chest, his tail twitching. He looked back once at Susan and winked slowly. She caught the distinctive markings on his face where Edmund had once, in a childish fit of fear, scribbled a pair of glasses and a mustache with a pencil. Her eyes went to the other lion.

Although the stone lions had, of course, been identical, there was no mistaking Aslan for any creature other than himself. She breathed his name around the hitch in her chest, which was growing worse by the second.

"Come, daughter," he said, and turned away.

Susan wanted nothing more than to follow him; she had dreamed of this moment for decade upon decade, but she could not go. Not now.

"Aslan," she said softly, knowing that he would hear her. "I can't come with you. Not right now. Someone has to take care of Emma."

Aslan had turned back at the first sound of her voice, and now he sat patiently before her, his great golden eyes on hers. "Emma is no longer your concern, my child."

"But look at her," Susan protested. The girl cowered against the plinth, fear of her husband blinding her to all else. Susan suspected that she wouldn't have seen the lions in any case. "She's not ready to take care of herself. If I leave her now, she'll end up back with that man, and one day, he'll beat her to death. She still needs help."

"Your friends in the library can help her."

Susan shook her head. "No, Aslan. I can't leave her. Please."

The lion leaned forward. Susan felt the warmth of his breath and then his tongue touched her forehead softly, like a benediction. "Oh, well done, Queen Susan. Well done, indeed. You have shown yourself to be the bravest one of all. When your task here is done, I will return to escort you onward."

Susan closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the stone lions were back on their plinths, and a policeman was standing over Holden. She turned at once to Emma. "Are you all right, my dear?"

The fear slowly faded from Emma's eyes. She nodded. "Yes. I think so. You were magnificent, Mrs. Greene! But I was so scared; thank goodness he tripped and hit his head. Otherwise, he might've hurt us both!"

"Indeed," Susan murmured. "Come, my dear. Let's get this over with." She took Emma's elbow and steered her toward the policeman. "Officer, this young woman would like to make a complaint." She looked back at the lions only briefly, but knew that she would be using the front door of the library from that moment on.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anyone who was happy with the way Susan was treated....
> 
> The Chronicles of Narnia, their characters and settings are the property of the Estate of C. S. Lewis. Other characters are original to this author. No infringement is intended and no profit will be had hereby.


End file.
